


Shelter

by Anonymous



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Feanorincest, First Kiss, Incest, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sibling Incest, Sulking Maglor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros/Maglor stuck in a cabin with only one blanket (if things get steamy or not is your call)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> based on the drabble request: "Maedhros/Maglor stuck in a cabin with only one blanket (if things get steamy or not is your call)"  
> Thx for sending it in.

For Maedhros only a few things existed, which were more annoying than a hungry little brother. Namely: a hungry little brother who additionally is cold, shivering, with lips almost blue. A brother who is strangely stubborn, so unlike he usually is.

Whilst he is well used to the first two things as Maglor is often cold and hungry, Maedhros completely isn’t used to a petulant brat. Maglor had never been reluctant, especially not with him. Curvo, yes, yes – naturally. Moryo even more so, but not Káno.

“I am cold, Maitimo.” A whiney voice mumbled, tearing him out of his silent musings.

 _‘By Manwë’s balls, get under the blanket, then’_ Maedhros nearly snapped, but bit back the harsh words before they could tumble out of his mouth.

Although he tried, he couldn’t keep the mockery entirely out of his voice. “There’s a bed,” he began. “There is a blanket, too. Actually and – oh wonder – it is big enough to cover half of our family. However, it is only the two of us, which means: space aplenty. Yet there you sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the ground like a beaten dog, shivering and whining instead of simply joining me where I rest so comfortably.”

Maglor didn’t say a word, and gradually Maedhros’ patience dissolved. The _‘discussion’_ was going on for quite a while already.

With a heavy sigh, one that could easily be described as one of annoyance, Maedhros sat up again, running his finger through the wet tresses. The thunderstorm they had been caught in earlier was an unfortunate coincidence, his father’s hunting cabin was not – it was the most fortunate coincidence that it had only been a mile away, saving them from a long, wet night in the wilds.

It was the perfect shelter, and that was all the more why Maedhros couldn’t understand his brother’s awkward behavior.

Shouldn’t he be glad as well? Wasn’t he tired, exhausted?

With the blanket casually wrapped around his waist, Maedhros moved towards where Maglor sat like a beaten dog with his tail between his legs. He placed his hands on Maglor’s shoulder like has done a million times before, his skin still damp from the heavy rain.

“Don’t.” The word was barely there – well, actually there wasn’t the need to speak at all as Maglor’s body language spoke volumes to him; instead of relaxing into his touch, Maglor tensed even further the moment their skins met, suppressing the urge to shiver for a moment.

Invisibly to him, Maedhros shook his head. Never before in his life had he felt so – stupid?

Idiotic?

Blind?

It felt as if the thunderstorm came crashing down on him again, emotions so abundantly swirling through his mind that he felt as if he was caught in a maelstrom he wasn’t able to escape.

When he did, he wondered why he had never seen. Realized.

But now, despite his racing heart and fluttering eyelids he saw – and understood. Everything that had happened earlier this day felt into place.

 Why his brother did not wish to share the blanket with him, why he had been so reluctant to undress to dry his clothes over the burning fire, why the moment he had touched him his hands had dropped into his lap.

O, what a fool he had been; for weeks, for months, years even? For how long have they both chased the same foolish dream in secrecy?

Maedhros had to act, he knew. When, if not now? Possibly never.

Within a second, his voice changed from brotherly affectionate to a rather commanding tone. “Look at me,” Maedhros urged, knowing well that Maglor would not oblige. It was intentional, the perfect excuse for the plan that had formed in his mind. Later, Maedhros would never be able to remember how he had managed to keep both his voice and hand steady when he brought his fingers under his brother’s chin, exactly how he had dreamt he would in so many sleepless nights. Yet somehow, he had mastered the challenge.

Maglor’s head turned with the motion of his arm, his gaze however remained cast downwards.

“Káno,” he said, his tone soft and understanding again. “Do you remember the day on the river so many years ago, when we swore each other that nothing shall ever come between us? No matter what it is?”

Slowly, Maglor’s head moved up and down.

“How you have asked me with wide eyes: _‘Even if ‘no matter what’ is something inacceptable?’_ ”

Again, Maglor nodded.

_No, it couldn’t have been then already._

“Do you remember my answer, too?”

All the while Maedhros’ touch persisted. So good his brother’s skin felt against his own. So differently than it always had.

“Yes,” Maglor answered at the verge of tears.

“I meant it, Káno,” he said with a smile, forcing his brother’s face upwards. “And more importantly: I still mean it. No thought, no deed, no sin of yours can be as grave that I will forget the vow I’ve once given you. You are my brother, and if you desire so, you can be so much more.”

Tears gathered in the corner of Maglor’s eyes. “Do not mock me,” he whispered defensively, idly playing with the fingers in his lap.

“I am not,” Maedhros replied in an equally hushed tone, moving his fingertips from his brother’s chin towards his cheek, caressing it softly. “Quite the con–“

The words to follow were lost, wiped from his mind and lips when his mouth met his brother’s, and the world stood still until they broke apart and stared at each other in utter disbelief.

With a second delay, the tears he had kept at bay so long began to stream down Maglor’s chin, and Maedhros didn’t know if those were tear of shame or joy, at least not until Maglor turned completely, flinging his arms around his neck.

“Maitimo,” he breathed, sounding as innocent as only Maglor can sound when nothing but mischief was on his mind.

When next Maedhros looked, he was pinned down to the bed with a shower of a million swearwords raining down on him.


End file.
